


Michael Mell: the Real Loser.

by malloryalexx



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz, Be More Chill - Ned Vizinni
Genre: Michael's POV, One Shot, Song: Michael in the Bathroom, book/musical crossover
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 09:08:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12955965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/malloryalexx/pseuds/malloryalexx
Summary: We were robbed from Michael's bathroom scene in the book, and we were robbed by not enough storyline in the bathroom scene in the musical...... SO, this was born. Have fun with my baby. I did my best for a 20-minute written one shot.Also, mind that this is a MAJOR mashup of the book and musical. Michael's personality drifts between the two and certain things mentioned are pulled from the book (ie; the Beanie Babies).





	Michael Mell: the Real Loser.

My best friend, or I mean… I guess I can’t call him that anymore… Jeremy Heere just made me feel like the scum of the fucking Earth. All I try to do is warn him about having a SQUIP and he shoves me out of the way. The douchebag literally shoved me out of the way. I’m not fucking kidding, he pushed me and called me a loser. 

“Loser” used to be our thing. “Loser” used to be what we called each other because we knew it was a joke. “Loser” was our thing because we were losers. We were nothing more than just two guys in a basement, getting high, and playing video games. We didn’t have anyone except for ourselves and we were okay with that. We were losers. But we were each other’s losers. But now… Now that Jeremy’s got new friends and has a SQUIP that tells him to lick girl’s nipples, I guess he’s not a loser anymore. I’m still a loser, though.

To be completely factual, I’m a loser in the bathroom. I’m a loser in the bathroom at the biggest party of the fall. It’s even worse knowing that everyone at this party knows that I’m a loser. They know that Jeremy, my once-loser-now-cool friend drug me along to this party in hopes that we’d become closer friends again. They know that he left me in here alone because of how big of a fucking loser I am.

Michael in the bathroom. It’s kinda funny if you think about it. You know, with me leaning against the edge of the tub, picking at grout as I grieve quietly to myself. Everyone out there must think that I’m some creeper who takes longer than five minutes to pee. I’d rather fake pee than stand next to a couch with four couples making out on it, pretending that I’m checking my phone for texts that will never come, though.

I don’t exactly know how long that I’ve been in here for.

All I can think about is my best friend. I mean, ex-best friend. I mean.... Jeremy.

How could he think that I’m jealous of his SQUIP? He knows that my brother had one, right? We’ve talked about it, of course he knew. He’s met my brother, he knows what kind of paranoid delusionist he turned into because of the SQUIP. Why would I be pissed that I don’t have one? If I wanted one I would go steal ten Beanie-Babies from my aunt like he did and sell them on eBay. I’m not fucking jealous of him. I just don’t want him turning into a dick. Which, obviously, has already happened.

“Stupid fucking Jeremy Heere.” I mumble out, jumping when there’s a rather loud knocking on the door. “You can’t come in!” I shout at the door. Another knock doesn’t come.

I’m flying solo. For the first time since middle school I’m by myself. It feels weird, and I don’t exactly know how to deal with it. I’ve always had Jeremy by my side. When that girl Alison (the first non-Asian I ever asked out) very rudely rejected me, he was there to throw weed and a slushie in my face. When I failed my math final freshman year because the teacher was out to get him, he was there to throw weed and a slushie in my face. When I was high and realized that Marley died over thirty years ago and wouldn’t be making anymore music, he was there to shove more weed and a slushie in my face. Now that I think of it… He really comforted me with weed and slushies.

But I was there for him, too! When his parents got divorced, and when Rich beat him up, and when Christine rejected him, and when he lost his Humiliation Sheets, I was the one by his side. I comforted him and made him feel better. I was the one who’s house he went over to every day. I was the one who always made sure my health was a little bit below his when we played Apocalypse of the Damned because I knew that it made him feel accomplished. I know how to cheer Jeremy Heere up. He’s my best friend, of course I know how to cheer him up.

“Was.” I tell myself. “He was my best friend.”

How could he be out there ignoring everything that we’ve been through? We’ve literally been friends for years. I don’t understand him at all. He gets this SQUIP and all of a sudden the memories of our friendship get erased.

I never thought that I would see the day where he replaced me. Jeremy Heere, my best friend since middle school, has finally replaced me. He’s finally cooler than me. I can’t blame him, though, can you? Who would want to be friends with me? Who would want to be friends with Michael Mell - the guy who has to hold back tears in the bathroom of a Halloween party? Jeremy was right. I am a loser.

For the first time in I don’t know how long, I listen to what’s happening outside of the door. A rather drunk girl is singing. Through her slurs, I can almost hear a Whitney song.

“I wanna dance with somebody!” 

I crack a smile but it goes away as quick as it came. 

Jeremy was the one that I made fun of drunk girls with.

There’s no one to make fun of drunk girls with anymore.

That’s where the tears kick in. They’re running down my cheeks and I can’t stop them no matter how hard I try. My best friend really is gone. He doesn’t want me anymore. Maybe he never wanted me. 

God, it’s getting hard to breathe in his bathroom. It’s really hot, too. Maybe it’s just me, though. 

Jesus Christ, of course it’s me, everything is me. Everything is my fault. Jeremy brought me to this party to make fun of me. He never wanted to try to be friends again. He made sure that we drove in his mother’s car - WHICH HE STOLE - so I couldn’t get home on my own. He made sure that he kept the keys to the car while he took ecstacy and drank and hooked up with girls so that I had to lock myself in the bathroom and cry until he was ready to leave. This was all some elaborate scheme that his SQUIP made up. I’m sure of it. The real Jeremy would never do this.

The knocking is back at the door but I can barely catch my breath to say anything.

I can hear someone talking on the other side but I don’t understand them. Rather, I don’t care enough to try to understand them. My heartbeat is in my ears but I can still hear the talking.

“I’ll be fucking out soon!” I shout, hoping that it’ll get whoever it is to leave like it did last time.

The knock just grows louder.

This is all Jeremy’s fault.

Even louder.

He left me to die at this party and he knows it.

More pounding.

God fucking dammit it feels like my chest is going to explode.

It sounds like the door is about to be kicked down.

I’m trying to catch my breath as I stand up and go to the sink. I splash water in my face in an attempt to calm myself down.

Whoever was out there stopped knocking. Thank God.The only problem is that I can’t go back out to the party anymore. Not looking like this, anyway.

In the mirror, my entire face is wet and my eyes are red and puffy. My jaw quivers the longer I stare.

I’ll just fucking blame it on weed, who gives a shit.

I sink back down to the floor, hoping that maybe this is just some bad dream and I’ll wake up in my basement with a game controller in my hand and Jeremy asleep on the beanbag next to me. I know that won’t happen, but… I can’t help but dream. He said that we we were never not gonna be a team. It’s hard for me to believe that at one time I was his favorite person and now I’m a loser to him.

Really, though, I can’t blame him.

What cool person drives a PT Cruiser? What cool person smokes weed because he has no friends? What cool person locks himself in the bathroom and cries? What cool person sits on the floor of said bathroom wishing that he’d just killed himself or never been born? What cool person is named Michael Mell?

Not one cool person is named Michael Mell.

Not one cool person will ever be named Michael Mell.

What a fucking awesome party, you know? I’m so glad I came.


End file.
